


126 Days

by Halo793



Series: Song inspired [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Season 3 Finale, Season 4 beginning, Smut, some strong language, with plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-02-13 02:08:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2133072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halo793/pseuds/Halo793
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One hundred twenty-six days after he was put in his grave... he crawled his way out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based off the song 'Waiting for Superman' by Daughtry

The sun was bright, even through the thick curtains. The afternoon light cast a glow upon the complete disarray and filth of the motel room. Liquor bottles littered every flat surface and crumpled fast-food wrappers overflowed from the trash bin. Standing at the door with one hand on the doorknob, I took a deep breath to calm my mind; the murmuring thoughts had been getting louder. With a sudden rush of bravery and determination I opened the door and stepped into the world. Even with my eyes shut tightly, the light burned painfully into my retinas.

It had been over one hundred days since I’d felt the sun on my skin; 117 days to be exact. I had kept perfect count. He had been gone for 125 days. I found out 121 days ago. I held a knife to his brother’s throat and stormed out on what might have been the only family I had left 120 days ago. I checked into this motel 118 days ago and hadn’t left during daylight since. I left only at night and only to restock my stash of liquor, which seemed to run out faster and faster as the days drug on. I always had food delivered.

The long forgotten sensation of the sun’s heat was startling. It didn’t warm my skin like it used to. Was it supposed to feel so warm? I felt like it was burning through my skin to my bones. Should I feel the burn of my cells so quickly? Or was I still in my semi-constant state of being somewhere between drunk and hung-over?

“I’m _so_ not ready for this,” I grumbled to myself as I turned the lock and shuffled down the sidewalk. My muscles ached even with the smallest movements. A passing glance at a marquee that flashed the date and time informed me that it was September 17 th. _Four months._ Had it really been so short? It felt like ages. I felt years older, and looked it too. My cheeks and eyes were sunken and sickly, my ribs were visible and my elbows and hip bones were so jagged I could probably kill someone with them.

Thankfully the sun was setting fast and ending its blinding assault on my vision. I knew exactly where I was going, though I hadn’t been there before. I had spent the better part of four months staring at the little dot on the map. Just a few roads down from where I was staying. I walked slowly with my hands planted firmly in my pockets as I thought back on mid-May. On how four months ago my life had been so much different.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

 

“Lane? Aren’t you supposed to leave early today?” Maggie’s twinkling voice lulled me from a daydream.

Together we worked as secretaries for a physician’s office. It was simple, mindless, boring; so unlike what I was used to growing up. I combed my fingers through my shoulder length brown hair as my hazel eyes glanced up at Maggie. 

“I was, but it doesn’t look like I’ll need to tonight. Probably tomorrow,” 

“Trouble in paradise?” the older, middle aged woman joked. 

“No, no. He’s just running a little behind. Had to make some stops before coming home, I’m sure,” I said before mumbling to myself, “I hope,” 

“That boy sure does travel a lot,” Maggie was absent-mindedly checking-in a patient and motioned for them to take a seat in the waiting area, “Needs to settle down with you, give you a family. You’re almost thirty!” 

“People don’t always get married so young anymore, Mag,” I laughed a little. And hunters certainly don’t marry. 

My cellphone rang, which was strange because everyone I knew wouldn’t call me during work. The screen said it was Dean. 

“That’s him now,” I said with a nervous smile as I answered it quietly, knowing Maggie would cover for me if needed, “Hey, are you on your way?” 

_“Laney,”_ it wasn’t Dean’s familiar rough voice on the other end. 

“Sam?” my voice dropped low as my smile faded to a stone exterior, “Where’s Dean? What’s wrong?”

_“Lane, I need you to meet me at Bobby’s,”_ did his voice just crack or did the phone cut out?

“Sam, what happened?” I knew deep down, but wanted to hear otherwise. 

_“We’ll talk about it when you get here,”_ his voice was thick, trying hard to be in control, and the line went dead. He had hung up.

I sprang into action without a second thought. The moment the call dropped I threw my phone in my bag and had my jacket on. I fumbled with my car keys as my hands shook. Feeling around my jean pockets I double checked that my knife was still in the back of my jeans – you know what they say, old habits and all.

“Something wrong?” Maggie asked.

“I have to go. I’ll call and explain later when I have more details. I’ll take the heat for bailing early, no need to cover for me,” I rambled quickly as I made my way out the door.

I was on the highway in record time. With a pre-packed bag in the trunk I hadn’t needed to go home first. With the pistol from the glove box in the passenger seat as my copilot, I sped like mad the whole way to Sioux Falls.

Barely slowing as I turned in the driveway, my tires flung gravel at lethal velocity. My foot slammed heavily on the brake and the car fishtailed in front of the porch. The vehicle had only just stopped moving by the time I was out of the driver’s seat and storming toward the rickety old house.

“Samuel Matthew Winchester!” My voice boomed and echoed off the trees surrounding the property. I threw the door open with such force it shook the frame only to be met by Bobby in the front hallway.

He held his hands out in front of himself in an attempt to calm me, “Now girl, he ain’t exactly dealin’ well,”

“Well, no shit?!” I scoffed. Every time I tried to step around him he stepped in my way, “Maybe it’s ‘cause he _can’t do a damn thing he promised!”_ my words were a shrill sound dripping with venom.

“Lane, it ain’t his fault,”

“Like hell it’s not!” I narrowed my eyes and sized up the old man. He wouldn’t make a move to hurt me and I knew it.

Grabbing one of his outstretched hands, I twisted it behind his back long enough to push him aside and storm down the halls demanding for the younger Winchester to appear. I stopped in the doorway of the dining room-turned-library. The table was littered with books and half empty liquor bottles and shelves full of books lined every reachable space of wall. It looked just like I remembered, only, at the same time, it looked sickeningly different. 

He wasn’t sitting at the table shoveling scrambled eggs into his mouth like he had last time I was there. He wasn’t there to look up at me with a stuffed-cheeked smile and offer me a slice of his bacon. His dreamy rough morning voice didn’t rumble ‘good morning’ and his green eyes didn’t shine as he watched me walk in the room. He wasn’t there and he wouldn’t be.

My eyes scanned the room momentarily and spotted the man who had practically been my younger brother standing in the other entryway to the dining room. Guilt tore into the normally soft features of Sam’s face. My anger faded quickly as his eyes confirmed everything I didn’t want to be true. I had stormed in hoping it was a bad joke, but his red-rimmed eyes and tear stained shirt made it all too real.

“Where?” my voice crackled as the simple word traveled up my throat.

“Lane, I’m so sorry,” he murmured.

“Where is he?” I repeated more firmly.

“I tried, Lane,” Sam whimpered. Bobby came up behind him, resting a comforting hand on the young man’s shoulder and giving me a warning glance.

 

Bobby knew how vicious I was when crossed. I grew up the same as the Winchesters, even spent time with them at Bobby’s as kids; hiding in the junk cars and training together. After high school, I got out and went to college and cut myself off from my past except for the Winchesters and Bobby. I saw them as often as we could. Exchanged frequent texts with Sam and long late-night phone calls with Dean. 

The older Winchester and I had something between us that had started in high school. We were each other’s first kiss, first relationship, first… _everything_. Growing up the way we had, we knew we wouldn’t be each other’s _only_ , but we _were_ the first’s… and had vowed to be each other’s last’s.

 

“You promised,” my voice was bone chillingly even as I stalked toward Sam.

“I tried… it’s too late, I didn’t have enough time,”

“You promised you’d get him out of it! You lying sack of shit!” I growled, now toe to toe and glaring up into his broken hazel eyes. He was almost a full foot taller than me. I shoved against his shoulders, causing him to take a step back.

"He’s… gone. We can’t… there’s nothing… I tried, Lane, I did. I just ran out of time.”

“You had a _year_!” I hissed, “Where is he?”

“There’s nothing we can do to change it,” Sam replied warily, afraid I was going to try to bring him back.

“That’s not what I asked,” my hands flexed into fists at my sides, “Where is he?”

“You can’t…”

With horrifying speed I whipped my knife from the back of my jeans and pinned him to the doorframe. With my forearm keeping pressure on his chest, the knife blade pointed out my fist opposite my thumb and grazed along the middle of Sam’s throat.

“I said: Where. The fuck. Is he.” I hissed, ignoring Bobby’s frantic protests beside me, “I won’t ask again, Sam,”

The three of us stood in thick silence for a few heartbeats before Bobby released a shaking sigh. My mind registered whispers in the room around me, but it was neither Bobby nor Sam.

“C’mere,” Bobby grunted nodding toward the table, “I’ll show you on the map,” 

For a tense moment, Sam and I only stared at each other, both revealing our broken hearts in different ways. With squinted eyes I growled again before pushing away from him roughly.

 

“You can’t try and bring him back, Lane. You do and I drop dead, you know that,”

“Well, maybe that’s how it _should_ be!” my voice cut through the air like a bullet and made Sam freeze in his place. Our eyes met and the pain in his eyes made part of me regret the words the moment they passed my lips, but at the same time things between myself and Sam had been rocky over the past year. I knew it wasn’t his fault but I couldn’t stop myself from blaming him for Dean’s deal. The whispers filled my ears again.

“Would you quit whispering!? I can hear you. Are you on the damn phone or something?” I demanded turning around to Bobby who was standing silently at the table unfolding a map.

The two men went still and all eyes were on me questioningly. I looked back and forth between them in my own confusion as the whispers tapered off to silence.

“You didn’t hear that?” I asked almost silently. When no one answered I huffed, “Forget it, show me where,”

 

 

 

The drive to Illinois was a long one, but it gave me a chance to think and remember in solitude. It made my heart twist to know that I had seen him alive and well only a week and a half ago. The only thought that gave me comfort was that I was indeed able to be his last. I spent the majority of the drive remembering every detail of our last night together.

  

He had showed up to my work, waiting outside at closing time leaning against the Impala with his hands in his pockets. All leather, freckles and a smirk. I was laughing as I walked out with some of the nurses that worked in the clinic with me.

 

“ _Damn_ , is that him?” Lauren, one of the nursing assistants asked nodding toward the parking lot. 

I froze and turned my head quickly to catch him smiling at me. When I blushed and nodded some of the other girls muttered their approval.

“Well, we know Laney will be busy tonight,” One joked with a wink.

“Oh, shut up!” I was already making my way toward him with a wide-eyed smile.

“Hey, want me to work for you tomorrow… you know, ‘cause you’ll probably be tired,” Maggie asked with a sly smirk.

I turned around to face the girls but continued walking backwards toward Dean, “Uhm, yeah, actually that’d be great,” Spinning around I found myself face to face with beautiful green eyes, “Hey,” I breathed.

Warm rough hands slid around my waist to rest just above my butt and he pulled me flush against him as he kissed me. When we parted Dean noticed the other girls watching and kissed me again, only deeper and hotter than before. He fisted my hair in one hand and held me tightly as his lips danced with mine. A quick bite across my bottom lip was all it took for me to carelessly drop my purse on the cement and lock my arms tightly around the back of his neck. The lighthearted whooping of my friends pulled me out of my daze and I turned to see them watching. Embarrassed, I giggled and hid my face in his shoulder. He chuckled and smoothed my hair before kissing the top of my head and using his hand to tilt my chin up.

“Hey,” he whispered in reply to my hello. He kissed me sweetly before opening the passenger door for me. He waved to my friends as he got in the driver’s seat.

“What was that all about?” I laughed, sliding into the middle of the seat to be beside him.

He took my hand and held it in his with a smile, “Just had to make sure they knew I was yours. Make them jealous, you know,”

“They were already pretty jealous,” I revealed, “I bet that’s all I’m gunna hear about next week,”

“You aren’t working tomorrow?” 

“Maggie took my shift for me,” I leaned in close to lay soft kisses along his neck and jaw, “Since I will most decidedly be tired tomorrow,”

He groaned lowly and sped up his driving, “Well, thank god for people like Maggie,” glancing at me, he smiled and squeezed my hand in his, “Let’s get home,”

I loved when he called it home. I laid my head on his shoulder with a contented sigh and an unshakable smile on my lips, “Where’s Sam?”

“Got a room a few towns over… said he’s gunna keep researching. I dunno what he thinks he’s gunna find,” He sounded hopeless and it made me regret asking.

“So how long do I get to keep you?” I smiled, trying to change the subject.

At a red light he turned his head to kiss my forehead, “As long as you let me stay,”

Looking down at our clasped hands I saw the cuts and bruises across his knuckles. I twisted his hand to inspect the little wounds and ran a gentle finger along the back of his hand.

“It’s nothin’,” he muttered.

I nodded, trusting him and not wanting to pry too much since he obviously didn’t want to talk about it. Slowly I brought our entwined hands up to my lips and softly kissed along his knuckles. When I did simple things like that it always brought a smile to his face.

He told me once that no one took care of him the way I did. He’d never been as relieved as he was the day I got accepted to college. It was all he ever wanted for me, safe and normal, and if he was lucky than he would be retiring from hunting to be safe and normal with me… but it never works out that way, does it? When Sam had gone off to school, Dean told me how he felt abandoned and left behind for a while. But after talking to him for a while he admitted that Sammy needed to get away, and school was a good escape from their life. 

Once we got to my small home we had dinner together. Snuggled together on my small couch, my legs laid across his as we sipped beer and ate pizza. I watched Dean carefully as he smiled at the TV show. He looked so light, so content.

Sam had told me that Dean was changing, that hunting was changing him. He said that Dean didn’t get close with people anymore. But I didn’t see it. He was nothing but sweet and caring around me. Sam mentioned that Dean seemed to lighten up after a phone call from me or right before a visit, I assumed he was exaggerating though.

 

I pulled myself closer and curled into his side, “Look at you,” I smiled, “Dean Winchester. Watching the evening news, drinking a beer. You’re domesticated and you like it,” I teased.

He scoffed with a smirk, “No way, I’m still wild as they come… but if I had to settle down, this wouldn’t be a bad place to start,”

He looked at me and his eyes filled with fear before he pinched them shut. As he worked on breathing slowly I realized what was happening. Sam’s birthday had just passed, which meant Dean’s deal ended soon. He was starting to have the hallucinations.

With one leg on either side of his, I sat in his lap and held his face in my hands, “Hey, I’m right here, I’m right here,” I whispered as his hands gripped tightly around my wrists, holding my hands to his face. My thumbs stroked softly at his cheeks until he slowly opened his eyes, looking weakly into mine as he nodded.

“See, I’m right here with you. I’m not gunna let anything happen,” I promised.

“You’re gunna fight ‘em off for me?” he asked with a tired half-smile.

“Just ‘cause I’ve been out a while doesn’t mean I can’t still kick some ass… I’ve kicked yours a few times if I remember right,” his hands dropped to my hips and squeezed gently, “So, you were saying you’re still wild? I don’t know if I believe you,” I grinned.

His rough hands slipped under the back of my shirt as he pulled me tight against him. His lips danced lightly across my jaw and stopped at my neck under my ear. I could feel his smile against my skin as I gasped and shivered. His fingertips traced down my arms leaving goose-bumps behind. As his fingers reached mine, he laced our hands together and brought them up to his lips, kissing my palms, my fingers, my wrists. As time had gone on, our meetings had been getting sweeter and sweeter. We didn’t want to rush anymore, we wanted to feel every kiss and hear every breath. I had to admit, I loved it just as much as when things were rough and fast. The one constant was the heat, the fire. It used to be fast and burn erratically, but now it started slowly and grew until it consumed us both.

I took his hands and lead him to the bedroom, though he knew his way there. We removed each other’s shirts and I laid back against the pillows as he crawled up the bed and took my hands in his again. He stretched my arms out wide and slowly kissed from one wrist, across my arms and collar bones, and to the other wrist. I laid naked from the waist up as he kissed and touched every inch of my exposed torso. He hooked his fingers under the waist of my sweatpants and slowly pulled them off of me along with my underwear. He was off the bed for only a moment as he removed the rest of his clothes and continued his slow task of kissing every piece of me. I let my eyes drift shut as his warm lips caressed the soft skin of my ankles, behind my knees, the front of my hips. It was so soft and peaceful to be with him like that.

I tried to slow my breathing when he settled himself between my legs and started placing feather-light kisses on the inside of my thighs. I hadn’t realized how tightly I was gripping the sheets until one of his hands wove into mine, giving me something to squeeze and hold onto. I could feel the heat of his breath as it fanned across my center. I looked down to him long enough to meet his eyes. He licked his lips slowly before moaning softly, which only made me want him more. With a breathy whimper I let my head fall back on the pillows as he started with such gentle care. 

I tried to hold myself together while he slowly tore me apart. I moaned his name and he squeezed my hand in response. When it was obvious that I couldn’t take much more, he started to make his way up my body, sinfully kissing my skin along the way. Every nerve felt like a fuse begging to be lit, like livewires that wanted nothing more than to throw sparks. When he was eye-to-eye with me he carefully smoothed my hair back away from my face. His eyes were filled with an emotion I couldn’t begin to explain, but if I had to give it a word the closest would be adoration. His lips touched mine tenderly, almost questioning, then began to move and build. He shifted himself above me and pushed into me slowly as I moaned.

Being with him was familiar and comforting, like coming home after a long time away. There was nothing like it. We fit like we were made together and made only for each other. We each had been with others… but always came back to each other, like we were tethered together.

He dropped his forehead to mine as he moved leisurely against me, “God, you feel amazing,” he sighed but it turned into a deep groan when I ran my nails down his back. His hips jerked as he tried to maintain his blissful infuriatingly slow pace. His head fell into the pillow beside mine making it impossible to hear anything but his quick breath and quiet whimpering moans. I couldn’t help but dig my fingernails into his shoulders as I clung to him tightly. His stubborn will finally broke and he started moving harder in me making me yell out louder. I noticed his breath coming short so I pushed against his shoulders and sat up with him before making him lay on his back. His mouth fell open and is eyes pinched shut when I settled myself on him and started rocking as slowly as he had before. His hands clamped onto my hips and helped me keep a steady rhythm. When we were moving faster and harder and our breathing was heavy, he sat up, keeping me in his lap and taking over the work as I locked my arms around his neck. His fingers dug roughly into my back as he kissed my neck and shoulder, letting his breath puff across my sweat-dampened skin.

We screamed each other’s names, not caring if the neighbors heard, like a desperate plea for mercy and bravery in our near futures. When we were both spent and he had sated me in ways no one else ever could, he laid on top of me breathing heavily. His face was nuzzled into my neck and I could feel his hot breath in my ear as his muscles shook with tapering waves of ecstasy. He took a deep shanking breath and I knew what he was doing. 

We fit together, worked together, like two cogs in a machine. We knew each other inside and out. I knew his mind as well as I knew my own.

He was scared and he was letting me know, through that one breath, he was telling me to be the strong one for a little while.

I ran my fingers through his sweaty damp hair over and over as I held him closely and hushed in his ear. I pressed my lips to his temple and listened to his shaking breaths.

“I’m here, always right here, baby,” I whispered to him repeatedly. He had been strong for too long, so for a few heartbreaking hours I would be the strong one. Sam was partially right whenever he would say we didn’t deal with things. We dealt with things our way, sharing the burden and occasionally letting the other carry the full load for a while.

 

Somehow, I think we both knew that would be our last night together. We only made love once that night and spent the rest of our waking hours holding each other and memorizing the other’s heartbeat.

 

When I woke up it felt like I had only just fallen asleep. I was woken by the soft click of the bedroom door closing. Sitting up I looked around the dark room and Dean was no longer there. I slid out of bed and tugged my short black silk robe off the chair in my room. I wrapped myself in the soft fabric as my bare feet moved silently down the soft carpeted hallway.

The hallway opened up into the living area where I saw him with his back to me, fully dressed and tying his boots on. He hadn’t heard me walk up.

“So, you’re, uh,” I paused to swallow back emotion as his back stiffened and he stood up to face me, “You’re leaving without saying goodbye,” it wasn’t a question.

“Lane, I…”

“Don’t, Dean,” I said with a sad smile that said ‘I should have known’. His eyes were filled with an apology, “Just… don’t,” I paused and when he went to step toward me I turned my side to him, “I, uh, I’m gunna makes some coffee… if you want any…” I muttered walking away to the kitchen

I stood at the sink filling the glass coffee pot that shook in my hands. It started to overflow and I didn’t move to turn the water off, I just watched how it flowed over the rim before it slipped from the weak grip I had on it. It clattered into the steel sink loudly, but didn’t break. I held onto the counter until my knuckles turned white. I had assumed he would leave like that, not wanting a sappy goodbye and not wanting to make it a big deal… but I thought he’d wait at least another day. But maybe that was just me hoping.

“Laney,” he whispered behind me. I hadn’t heard him walk in; he must have taken his boots off. He reached around me and turned off the splashing water. He gently eased my iron grip on the counter and held each of my hands in his as he wrapped his arms around me from behind, making me wrap my arms around myself as well. He placed his head on my shoulder, his head bowed with his mouth pressed against the slick silk of my robe.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered quietly. I moved one of my hands from his and reached up to run my fingers through his hair, rubbing his head with my fingertips as a leaned back against him.

“It’s not your fault,”

I felt him shake his head negatively, implying it _was_ his fault.

“It’s not,” I insisted, “And it’ll be ok,”

“How do you know?” his voice broke helplessly.

I turned in his arms and held his face in my hands, staring up into his eyes with a smile, “Because, my Superman doesn’t get hurt,” I whispered.

His fingers brushed along my cheek as a grin pulled at his lips, “Yeah, but only when his Lois Lane is there to keep him from doing stupid stuff,”

When we were young and would play superheroes, Sam would be Batman and Dean and I would match as Superman and Lois Lane. We both smiled at the old memory and his eyes started to shine a little. Those green eyes had always been my kryptonite. Stretching on my tiptoes, I kissed him softly.

With my nose brushing his I whispered, “I love you," 

“I know,” he smiled. I knew he’d never say it back, and he didn’t have to. I already knew, and he already knew, but every now and then it felt right to remind him.

 

~*~*~*~*~

  

That day was the last time I saw him. Now, walking down the darkening sidewalk, I was headed to see him again… only this time would be different. He wouldn’t see me back. Those beautiful kryptonite eyes were gone. Six feet under. The thought made me stop at the liquor store on the way to the edge of town. Matthew, the clerk, had rung up my purchase before I had gotten to the counter; I had gotten very predictable. 

The mumbling voices were still there and getting ever louder as the hours passed. They were becoming clearer as well. Muttering about a righteous man who needed to be saved. Sometimes I listened to them plan, like a story in my head. They were planning to break through a gate and ‘raise him from the flames’. It only fit that my hallucinations were as fixated on hell as I was. I had to be going crazy, or drinking too much… probably both.

Every black car that passed had me wishing it was a stupid old Impala and that a dumb boy wrapped in leather was driving it. I stumbled down the road with two whiskey bottles in a bag. I found the tiny clearing easily; I had been studying it endlessly on a map for four months.

I was faced with a cross made of two wooden sticks, only five feet away from me. I tossed my bag of goodies aside and sank to my knees in front of the cross. I ran my fingers through the drying grass. Trees surrounded me like walls and let me feel safe in the dark clearing.

Later, with one bottle taken care of, I laid on my back beside the cross. Pointing at the stars, I described what constellations I could remember from the one astrology class I took in college.

“I know, it doesn’t look like a ram to me either… but that’s what it’s supposed to be,” I said, letting my hands drop to rest on my stomach, my ribs had become so prominent over the past four months, “There are so many. And they’re so old…” I rolled to my side, facing the cross and reaching out to touch my fingertips to the cold wood, “But… by the time their light gets here… they’ve probably been dead for millions of years,”

A few precious silent tears fell into the dying grass as I fell asleep. I didn’t care that it was cold and itchy and dirty… I didn’t care about much anymore. I was with him, and that was where I planned to stay… where I planned to die. He would be my last. He would always be my last.

 

 

 

Day 126 – September 18 

The hot sun on my skin woke me. Or was it the screeching voices in my head? Either way, I woke around ten in the morning and sat up slowly as my head exploded with voices.

_“Reach, brother! Reach farther!”_

_“We need more soldiers,”_ a second begged _._

_“You know they will send no more! It is you, YOU must retrieve the righteous man!”_  

The voices sounded pained and tired. Pressure started to build within my head, behind my eyes and between my ears. It felt as though my skull would burst. The wind picked up, blowing leaves and dirt, and I crouched forward covering my head with my arms as I screamed. There was a sudden high-pitched wailing in my ears and I could barely stand it without passing out, it made my eyes tear and my bones shake. I felt shattered glass from the whiskey bottles pelt the flesh of my legs, but I didn’t dare look up. It felt like I was inside a tornado.

 

And as suddenly as it started, it left. It was so silent I thought I’d gone deaf. I cautiously sat up and looked around myself. The trees had been leveled in a perfect circle around the cross and I. my ears popped painfully as the pressure suddenly disappeared from my head. Every voice I had heard in the past four months abruptly spoke in perfect harmony and unison. The words filled my every sense. I could taste them, see them, feel them. Four words that made my heart skip a full beat.

 

 

_“Dean Winchester is saved.”_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its been way too long. heres the second chapter.

I sat back on my heels, staring at the stationary wooden cross for a long time. After the brief harmony of the four most beautiful words I’d heard in months, everything was silent. The air was completely still. The grass didn’t move, the birds didn’t sing; all I could hear was the rush of my own breathing and the leftover ringing in my ears. 

I gently ran my fingers through the wilting grass as I closed my eyes and imagined it was his hair. That the warmth of the sun was really the heat of his skin against mine. When I opened my eyes again I took a long look around myself; at the destroyed, uprooted trees and the shattered liquor bottles. I frowned to myself, one of those bottles was still full when it shattered. 

I slumped to one side and laid on the ground, pulling my knees to my chest and ignoring the sharp sting from the jagged bits of glass that pelted through my jeans into the flesh of my legs. There were patches of warm wet blood seeping slowly into the denim, but I didn’t care. Maybe it would help me die quicker.

It all had to have been a hallucination, right? Voices and wind and trees falling to the ground… the one sentence that I wanted more than anything to be true…

There was no way it was real. I was still hallucinating… losing my mind. You can’t just pull someone out of hell.

‘And where is the girl?’ one of the voices returned abruptly, startling me back to consciousness when I had just started to slip into sleep.

‘She waits for him,’ the second voice replied in a soft and caring tone. I recognized it as the rough and tired voice; the one the others told to reach farther to save the righteous man, ‘She waits at the grave for him,’

“No, she waits for her own death,” I muttered out loud. I was hyperaware of the weight of my knife in my jacket pocket and the gun in the back of my jeans. I would have used one already if I wasn’t busy being so pathetic. 

‘Watch over her,’ the first voice instructed. 

A gentle breeze rolled over me and I heard a bird sing before pulling my knees tighter to my chest. As I closed my eyes to force myself asleep I heard a noise; a soft twinkling sound, like a wind chime far away. The sound brought with it an old memory, buried just beneath the surface where I couldn’t get to it. I knew it reminded me of something, but I couldn’t place it. All I knew was the sound brought a feeling of peace and calm as it played me to sleep. 

I dreamt of darkness. Piercing screams and pained begging. The metallic tang of blood filled my mouth and a rotten stench overtook my nose. All around me people screamed for relief, for mercy… but it was given to none. A bright light filled the place. So bright I cringed away before it dimmed itself to a pulsing glow. It moved about, as if searching for something. Every tattered soul it passed begged shamelessly to be saved, but it did not stop for them. I followed and watched as it came to find an equally beautiful light. Only this one was not nearly as bright, as though it were tired. Dim, like a firefly on a car windshield. The brighter tugged at the second, leading it out of the darkness. 

My eyes opened into the searing sunlight as the glowing lights disappeared. Not only were my hallucinations fixated on hell, but now my dreams as well. My eyes seemed to shift in and out of focus as I gazed blankly across the flat ground. A tiny movement caught my attention and my eyes, trained by years of hunting, honed in instantly. 

I held my breath as I watched the grass, waiting for the movement to repeat itself. Before long the ground shifted again, like it was breathing, bowing up slightly before going back flat. I sat up straight in an instant, painfully aware of my aching muscles and the pricks of glass in my skin. When the ground bowed again, more so than before, I knew I wasn’t imagining it. I scrambled backward, pushing with my feet and pulling at the grass with my hands, until I was another dozen feet away from the wooden cross. I shifted myself onto my knees as I held my gun out in front of my body.

I stared in horror as hands broke through the earth. Hands I would recognize anywhere. Of all things to memorize so fully, his hands were something I idly studied often. The grip of my hands on my weapon wavered, but only for a moment before training on the figure again. It couldn’t really be him. 

He heaved himself out of the dirt and as he caught his breath he glanced up at me, sensing my presence. He froze immediately and looked at me curiously.

“Lane?” his voice croaked, dry and broken. I nearly crumbled at the sound.

“What are you?” I demanded in a voice as stern as I could manage.

“What? Lane… how am I here?”

“Ghost? Shifter? Demon? What are you?!”

“C’mon Lane, shooting any of those will just piss it off,” he tried to reason.

“Alternating iron and silver bullets,” I explained, cocking my gun, “Two shots and we’re two-thirds of the way to knowing what you are,”

His weary eyes softened and his dirt crusted lips smirked, “Always the cleaver one,” he said quietly and I faltered again, only Dean would say that, “What if I was a Demon?”

“I could tell you a little story in Latin; I’ve got a quick tongue,” 

“So I remember,” he chuckled before turning serious again and looking at me sadly, “Lane, what did you do to get me back? Please, please say you didn’t do anything stupid. You look like hell, are you ok?”

I broke. I didn’t care if it wasn’t really him. It looked like him and it sounded like him and honestly, I didn’t care if whatever it was killed me as long as it was quick. I moved toward him slowly, lowering my gun and dropping it in the grass. 

“Dean?” I chanced a whisper, knowing if I said it much louder my voice would break and scare away this beautiful dream. He nodded, beginning to move closer to me as well. 

We were on our knees, face to face as I reached out to place a hand on his cheek, “Dean?” I squeaked again. He flinched at my touch before leaning into my hand and closing his eyes with a strangled sob.

He sat back on his heels and pulled me into his lap, holding me tightly as I cradled his head to my chest.

“I’m home,” he whimpered, “I don’t care if it’s not real, just let me have this for a minute. Please. Just a minute,” he took the words straight from my mind.

A breeze passed us gently, cooling the streams of tears on my cheeks; tears I didn’t know were falling. I combed my fingers through his dusty hair before pressing my lips to the side of his head just above his ear.

“I’m here, always right here baby,” I told him just as I had during our last night together.

He looked up into my eyes slowly with his eyebrows pulled together. Dirty fingers touched my cheek gently, mixing with my tears and leaving thin streaks of mud. His face worked oddly, trying to understand, trying to rationalize and think of a reason he would suddenly be free.

“Lane? This is… you’re… you’re here? This is you?” his voice was uncharacteristically vulnerable. 

I nodded as a suppressed sob fought its way out of my lungs, “Yes, it’s me… and you’re…?”

He breathed a relieved laugh through his own whimper, “I’m me,”

We both held each other a little tighter just to test if we were real. His familiar warm hands held me at the base of my spine as our foreheads rested together. I curled my fingers in his hair and sighed at how right it felt.

“How?” he asked after a few blissful moments. 

I sat back slightly, letting my hands fall to his shoulders and he winced. I cautiously rolled the sleeve of his shirt up revealing a new scar. Large and red; angry and inflamed; in the shape of a hand. I trailed a feather light touch down the side of it as I gave him a questioning look.

“Stings a little,” he rasped to answer my implied question. He had to be real. It was the only way he would know me like that.

I produced a steel flask from my jacket pocket. It had a cross engraved in the cap and a prayer in Latin on one side. We both knew it was the flask I kept holy water in and he gave me a skeptical look.

“It’s the only water I have with me,” I shrugged.

He took it and drank it all down quickly with a refreshed sigh, “Well, one down,” 

I grimaced at the thought, but followed through and took my silver knife, making a shallow cut on his arm near his elbow. I raised my eyebrows, meeting his eyes, as I tore a strip from the edge of my tattered tee shirt and wrapped the wound.

He shrugged, “No worse than it should be,” he remarked about the level of pain the silver caused him. We were silent as I tied the fabric in place. The same question nagged at us both.

“How?” he asked again.

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly.

He looked at me intensely, “Why were you here, Laney?” his question was stern, but afraid all at once.

I couldn’t bear to look at him so I turned my eyes away, looking at a large piece of glass from one of the shattered whiskey bottled, “I was here to die,” I murmured. I watched his eyes shift focus slightly as he looked past me to the gun that laid on the grass where I left it. Instead of lecturing me like I expected, he pursed his lips and nodded.

He closed his eyes and asked quietly, “How long have I…”

“One hundred twenty-six days,” I answered instantly, he looked up at me with a strange expression that was somewhere between pained and confused, “Four months. It’s September. The 18th, I think,” 

His eyes cast down, looking at my legs folded between us spotted with blood, “What happened?”

“Glass… the bottles… before you… they just exploded. One was still full too,” I frowned. 

“We gotta get out of here… gotta get to Bobby’s and figure out who got me out,” he said, thinking out loud before looking into my eyes again, “You don’t think… Sam…”

I shook my head, I didn’t know how to answer. How do I tell him that the last time I saw his little brother, practically my little brother, I threatened his life and blamed him for everything? Sam had tried to stop me when I stormed out of Bobby’s with the map. I said things I didn’t mean… to both Bobby and Sam.

“I don’t know, I don’t… I don’t think he would… but I don’t know,” I admitted. 

“Let’s go. Let’s get your legs cleaned up and find Bobby,” the smallest smile laid on my lips. It was just like him to be like that. Very one track mind when he needed to be.

We walked through the heat, down the side of the road. My arm was tight around his waist and his arm was around my shoulders, trying to steady me because every other step seared with the pain of glass gouged into my calves. We walked in silence, beside my occasional hiss of pain. We discovered that all of his old scars were gone, save for the new one shaped like a hand. 

We went to the motel I had been staying in. Without meeting his gaze I worked quickly to try and hide some of the mess. He didn’t comment on the filthy state of the room.

“How long have you been here?” he asked as I sat in front of him. He focused on me, on fixing my legs, just to keep his mind off of the bigger questions at hand.

“One hundred nineteen days,” I murmured as my eyes glanced up to the map hanging on the wall. The grave site was circled in red and down one side of the map I had made black tally marks for every day. Dean saw my gaze and looked up at the map before pursing his lips. 

Instead of trying to wiggle painfully out of my jeans, I took my knife and cut down the side of each leg quickly. They were ruined anyway and that way I was less likely to snag a piece of glass while I tried to get them off. 

“I don’t think any will need stitches,” Dean said as lightly as he could. I winced when he plucked a jagged shard from my thigh. With a sympathetic smile he held out his left hand for me while he kept working with his right.

I watch as he worked, deep in thought. Every now and then he would sooth me with soft words when a particularly large piece had to be pulled. As he worked, blood trickled in thin lines across my pale legs and when he would notice his jaw would flex and his eyebrows would pull together. He looked almost pained and would freeze for a few moments, like he was contemplating or remembering something, before I would softly squeeze his hand and whisper his name. He came out of it quickly, blinking a few times before squeezing my hand in reply; his own little, ‘I’m ok’ message.

As it went on, it was more of him squeezing my hand for support than the other way around. He seemed intensely focused on being gentle and every time I winced he apologized and winced as well. It reminded me that he had been in hell for four months… and I had no clue what he went through. 

We were almost done and I was laid back staring at the ceiling when something changed. He reached his threshold and something changed in him. The initial sting of the tweezers going into a wound to retrieve the glass didn’t end. It didn’t fade as the glass was removed. If anything it started to hurt more and more.

I hissed in pain, “Dean, hurry up, that piece hurts,”

I sat up to see him pressing into my wound. His eyes were dark and emotionless as his hand shook, trying to regain control of himself. He seemed to sneer every time I tried to shift away or make a noise of protest. He wasn’t in his head and I had to bring him back somehow.

I pulled our still clasped hands to my lips and spoke softly against his finger, my lips brushing against his rough callused hand, “Dean, baby, you’re hurting me,”

He blinked a few times and stopped pressing further, but otherwise didn’t move.

“Listen to me,” I cooed, holding his hand in one of mine and gently placing my other hand on his shoulder, right over the new mark, “Listen, I’m here. This is me. I’m right here,”

His hand shook and dropped the tweezers before he pulled his hand from my grip and seemed to push himself back away from me. With his hands in his hair he pushed himself until his back was against the wall, no more than three feet away.

“Oh, god,” he whimpered. 

I slid to the floor, sitting in front of him and pulling his hands into mine as I made him look at me, “I’m fine. Everything is fine,”

He shook his head, “You don’t know that. You don’t know… what I did… all the things I did…”

“You’re right,” I said gently, “I don’t know… but I forgive you,”

“You can’t. You can’t do that. No one can,”

I smiled and pressed my lips to kiss his knuckles, “Watch me,”

His eyes fixed on mine knowingly as he took deep breaths to calm himself.

 

‘Watch me’ was a phrase just between us. When we would spar, he would tease that I couldn’t catch him, and that phrase was always my response before kicking his feet from underneath him and pinning him for my victory kiss. When we were young on a hunts with our dads, he would tell me to keep my eyes on him so I wouldn’t have to see something get killed, “Just watch me,” he would say. It was like our code word that changed meaning depending on the moment. It was comfort. It was seductive. It was protection. 

 

And in that moment, it was all three. 

I whispered those words again and took deep breaths for him to match, exhaling against his fingers. His green eyes never left mine, nor mine his. After a few dozen breaths he squeezed my hand and gave me a small nod. It was plain in his eyes and mine that the road back from this was going to be anything but easy. 

I packed my things as he cleaned himself up in the bathroom. When it was my turn to get cleaned up I stood in front of the mirror and stared into my own tired looking hazel eyes. My skin already held more life, and my eyes didn’t look as dead. I splashed the lukewarm water on my face and felt it run down my neck. Burying my face in a towel to dry I started to hear the faint sound of wind chimes again. I looked up quickly and saw the mirror vibrating. I stepped back and heard a whisper.

“Can you hear my voice?”

“What?” I whispered and as I did the mirror shattered and I heard Dean yell in the other room.

Throwing the bathroom door open in a hurry, I rounded the corner in time to see the windows explode and Dean fall to the floor covering his ears. I dropped to my knees in the glass beside him and covered him with myself. As he calmed down we both sat up and looked around. I saw the bag of road salt that I travel with had been ripped open and spread in a line across the door and window. Whatever that was, Dean had heard it coming. 

“What was that?” I asked.

“The TV and radio started to turn on and then a high pitch screech tore through… you didn’t hear it?”

“No…” I said and he looked around us again with fear and worry on his face.

“Let’s get out of here,” I whispered, pulling him up off the floor.

My knees throbbed with knew glass, but none so deep that I couldn’t pick them out with my fingers. He continued glancing around nervously as I dusted tiny bits of glass and salt off his shirt. How could I ease his mind? He needed something mindless to do, something to let his mind clear. My eyes caught on my car keys laying on the table among the litter of trash. Perfect. 

“Wanna drive?” I asked quietly.

He sighed and worked to slow his breathing as he nodded with a small smile. I could almost see a bit of the weight leave his shoulders. 

Now, my car wasn’t his Baby, but it was a car he loved almost as much. An old 1968 Chevy Camaro that he saw in a newspaper a few weeks before my 22nd birthday. He saved up and got her for me as a surprise because he knew I liked to watch him work on the Impala and help in what little ways I could. We spent the better part of the summer rebuilding and fixing it up until it was almost good as new. Painted it dark blue… though, the first time we tried painting it we ended up with more paint on ourselves and smudged up the side with my back pressed against it as his lips pulled at my ear. The engine used to rumble loudly but after a few days bent over the engine – I think he just liked to watch me bend over because he could have had it done in a few hours – she purred nice and quiet. 

I threw my bag in the back seat and watched as he trailed his hand across the hood, headed for the driver’s seat.

“You been takin’ care of her?” he asked as we both opened our doors and slid onto the soft worn leather.

I was quiet and almost ashamed as I answered, “Haven’t driven in weeks… haven’t even gotten in it,” and how could I? There were too many memories, too much joy left in the car to tarnish it with my grieving tears.

He only nodded, silently understanding why. I moved my way closer to him and watched carefully as he tensed with my closeness. I softly trailed my fingers along his, feeling every familiar groove and callus, remembering the rough tips of his fingers and soft back of his hand. With a slow shaking breath, he curled his fingers into mine, letting me hold his hand as he clung to me like a lifeline. He released my hand only long enough to bring the old car to life before winding his fingers through mine again. 

The tape in the radio was one we made together at the end of high school. A mix of songs we both loved and I watched his smile as he realized what tape it was. A few of the songs clicked and stuttered because they were worn and overused, but it only made them better. I mindlessly stroked my thumb across his, over and over, as we drove in calm silence. 

At the same time, we took a deep cleansing breath. Both silently acknowledging that this was the best moment either of us had experienced in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I have another chapter or two written. let me know if I should post them,


	3. Chapter 3

Two things made the otherwise unremarkable day extraordinary. It was unseasonably hot. The sun was a little brighter and burned a little hotter. Usually, South Dakota was getting cold by the time September rolled around. Other than the weather, and undoubtedly more important, one other thing made the day stand out. And that was the man to my left.

With one hand on the steering wheel of my car and the other coiled tightly around my own hand like a life line, he drove in silence. I watched him closely. The way he chewed at his lip and the way his jaw worked and flexed when he was deep in thought. 

The change in terrain startled me from my daydream. As the car rumbled down the gravel driveway I looked at the worn old house as it got closer. It had taken us longer than normal to make the drive. Dean drove slower than he used to.

“Maybe we shoulda called ahead,” He suggested as he pulled the car to a halt, “I don’t want him to shoot me,”

“He wouldn’t shoot you,” I dismissed quickly, to which he scoffed.

“You were gunna to shoot me,”

I paused and looked between Dean and the front door. I knew in my heart, beyond the slightest shadow of doubt, that this was Dean… that he was real. I knew him better than I knew myself and it was clear to me that this was real. But no one knew him like I did, not even Bobby and Sam. It may not be so instantly obvious to them.

“Maybe I should go in first,” I offered. 

I stood in the doorway, using myself as a barrier between Dean and what Bobby might do when he comes to the door. Holding my ground, I said a silent prayer that Bobby wouldn’t shoot us on sight and knocked on the door. The wooden planks of the porch creaked as Dean shifted his weight behind me. The tell-tale sound of Bobby’s heavy boots came closer and closer to the door and my muscles tensed.

I held the same posture that I did when hunting; shoulders square, feet firm, knees bent, chin down and eyes focused. Ears sharp and aware of every sound. Every muscle was wound tight as a coil, ready to spring into action. When Dean explained my hunting form to me, he likened it to a lion ready to pounce or a wolf who had cornered its prey; that I even swayed with the wind to better blend in. My fingers twitched at my side, more than ready to grab my gun.

The footfall stopped on the other side of the door and I held my breath as the door opened with a squeal of protest from the rusty hinges. Bobby’s tried eyes landed on me and softened with surprise and relief before he took in my posture. His eyes shifted focus to spot Dean behind me and his entire demeanor changed. He took on the body language of a cornered animal, quickly looking for his way out as his jaw dropped in shock.

Dean released a breathy nervous laugh behind me, “Surprise?”

Bobby was quicker than I gave him credit for, but I was quicker still. By the time he had pulled his silver knife from behind the open door I had my gun in my hands, trained on him. I shifted my gait wider to make a better shield.

“Lane, git away from him!” Bobby growled, “What are you?” 

“It’s him Bobby,” my voice was low and my arms were locked straight out in front of me as I looked down the barrel of my gun. 

I felt his heat behind me as he stepped closer. Reaching around me, one of Dean’s hands gently took my arm and lowered my weapon, while his other hand rested carefully on my waist. I practically melted at the touch, going from a rigid stone warrior to soft malleable clay in his hands. Bobby watched us closely and took in the sight of the bandage on Dean’s forearm. 

Dean coaxed the firearm out of my grip, “Hey, easy, Mama Bear, it’s alright,” I could hear the smirk on his lips.

Bobby’s eyebrows pulled together, “Dean?”

“Yeah, Bobby, It’s me,” Dean stepped around me, his warm hand leaving my waist as he and the old man embraced tightly. 

I stepped up beside Dean just in time to get splashed with cold holy water. Dean and I made a similar exasperated face and sighed deeply. Using the sleeve of the plaid shirt I was wearing, one of Dean’s, I wiped my face.

“We’re not demons either, Bobby,” Dean sighed, but I could hear the slight happiness in his voice. We were home… or the closest thing to it.

“Can’t be too careful,” he shrugged as he moved to let us come in.

I stood off to the side of the room as they talked about how and why Dean would be back. Leaning against one of the only sections of wall that wasn’t taken up by a bookshelf, I looked down at my hands, picking at my nails and trying not to think too deeply. Dean dried his face in an old hand towel and leaned back against the counter, glancing at me over Bobby’s shoulder as the man stood between us.

“I know,” Dean nodded, “I should look like a ‘Thriller’ video reject,” 

Bobby sighed and ran his hand over his mouth and chin, “Well, what all do you remember?”

“Not much,” his eyes caught mine again and I could see his lie, “I remember I was a hellhound’s chew toy. Then… lights out. Then I come to, six feet under. That’s it,” I shook my head slightly before looking back down at my hands, picking at the sore skin of my dry cuticles. 

Dean had started out across the room, but naturally gravitated toward me until we were leaning side by side, his shoulder pressed against mine and his fingers bumping the back of my hand until he laced his fingers through mine. He continued talking to Bobby and occasionally squeezed my hand of rubbed his thumb across mine. 

“Sam ran off right after you did, Lane, haven’t heard from him in a few months,” Bobby admitted. 

I sighed and leaned my head against Dean’s shoulder as they continued to talk about where Sam might be. Without missing a beat, once my head was resting on his shoulder he turned and placed his lips gently to the top of my head, as if no time had passed. I almost broke down with joy. But as quickly as he had done it, the action passed and I wanted so badly to protest, to demand that I hold onto every bit of him I could. That would be selfish, so I remained silent. Dean showed the new scar to Bobby who gasped at the sight.

“You… you don’t think Sam made a deal?” Bobby asked.

“It’s what I woulda done,” Dean muttered as he rolled down his sleeve.

I shook my head with a frown, “No, I don’t think he did,” both men turned their eyes on me, “I tried and no demon would take the bait… I mean, they might have said yes to Sam though… he seems higher up on the ‘demons most wanted’ list,”

Dean looked heartbroken, “You tried?” his voice was barely a whisper.

I nodded and then shrugged, turning my eyes down to look at my feet, “I mean… the last four months haven’t exactly been filled with my proudest moments,” neither of the men replied. The three of us stood in silence for a few heartbeats.

Dean motioned for my phone and I quickly handed it to him, “Let’s get his GPS turned on and find him,”

“I’m gunna do some laundry, if that’s alright,” I said softy, barely able to find my voice through my exhausted emotions, “I haven’t had clean clothes since… well since I saw you last,”

Both men nodded to me as I walked out to lug my bag of clothes inside. The duffle landed with a heavy thud when I dropped it onto the yellowed linoleum floor of the old laundry room. The two machines must have been nice… fifteen years ago. Now the white paint had chipped in places and some of the exposed metal was orange with rust. But they worked and that was good enough. I moved one of Bobby’s freshly washed loads to the dryer and filled the washer with my soiled garments. 

I faintly heard him approach over the sound of the machines, the sound and pace of his footfall completely unique to him. I had removed my flannel shirt and stood in only my jeans and a tank top, facing away from the door. Hands that had always been gentle with me moved my hair to one shoulder, leaving the other bare as he nuzzled into my neck and his hands slid around my waist and down the front of my thighs.

“Find him?” I asked, folding some of Bobby’s dry clothes.

Dean nodded, his nose pressed into the crook of my neck.

“Do we need to leave right away?”

He shook his head and pressed his lips to my bare shoulder in a feather light touch. Soft lips moved slowly up my shoulder to my neck and under my ear. Such a simple thing that, after so long trying to remember the sensation, drove me wild. I shivered under his touch. One large hand splayed across my stomach as the other gripped my hip, pulling me back tight against him. Letting my head lull back onto his shoulder, he sucked at the soft point of my pulse under my jaw. I felt him shift and heard the door close as he kicked it shut. A sound between a whimper and a moan snuck through my parted lips as I thought about how much I had missed this. His hand slipped down my stomach to expertly unbutton my loose jeans that fell to my ankles easily. 

“Baby,” he breathed against my neck, “Oh, god, I missed you so much,” 

His hands gently moved, roaming my thighs and pelvis, not so much sexually as it was tender and loving. Whether it was his intention or not, I moaned, arching my back and grinding my hips back into his. He growled low in my ear and his hand rubbed soft and teasing over the front of my panties, making me whine and gasp. He turned me in his arms and took my face in his hands as he pushed me back against the hot vibrating metal of the dryer. Stroking his thumbs over my cheeks and staring into my eyes he seemed to age before my eyes. He looked weary. Running my hands slowly up his chest, I locked my fingers behind his neck.

Then he kissed me. For the first time in four months, he kissed me. He kissed me like he hadn’t seen me in a lifetime and I melted in his hands. Falling into him as his warm lips moved against mine. With a moan, he lifted me onto the warm rocking and vibrating dryer, taking me to a whole new level of aroused. He stood between my knees and I locked my ankles behind his back, pulling myself to the edge of the dryer and pressing myself against his jeans, already tight with his own arousal. His hand slid between us to rub me as he moved his lips to tug at my ear. He hissed low in my ear when he felt the wet heat soaking through my underwear.

“God, so wet, baby,” he growled in my ear, to which I moaned and he rubbed a little harder, “Love your sounds, so fuckin sexy,”

Lacing my fingers in his hair, I brought his lips back crashing into mine as I rolled my hips against his hand. He moved his hand to slip into my underwear and plunged two fingers into me before spreading the pooling heat up to my clit and stroking in lazy circles as I moaned and gasped into his lips. He pulled back to watch me as he drove his fingers into me a few times before moving back up to circle my clit, then back again. My head fell back as I sighed his name between my breathy panting. His warm breath puffed along my neck as he started kissing and licking again by my ear.

“I love watching you, knowing I make you come undone,” his breath shuttered when I trailed one hand down along his thigh and up to his jeans zipper, “Christ, you’re beautiful, I missed,” he punctuated each of his next words with sharp thrusts of his fingers, “Every. Inch. Of you,”

It was too soon. I knew it was. We were still both so broken. But my senses were on fire with the need to be closer to him. The rapid fluttering of my heart filled my ears and my stomach rushed with butterflies like it always did when he touched me. Thoughts blurred together until all I could think was how much I missed this… missed him. How much I needed this… and needed him. How much I loved this… and more importantly, how much I loved him. Flushed with the heat of his touch and unable to stop even if I wanted to, I kept going and so did he.

My teeth pressed into my bottom lip as I got his jeans undone and ran my hand down his hard length. His hips pitched forward as he groaned into my neck. Pushing his jeans and boxers down his hips, his dick finally sprung free and I wrapped my hand around it, pumping slowly as he gasped in my ear. His fingers left my heat long enough to back up and pull my underwear off before returning with vigor. I smashed my lips together to muffle my moan and shoved his over shirt from his shoulders and ripped his tee shirt up over his head. He lifted my tank top and bra off together, not even bothering to unclip the under garment. His lips locked on my breast and the combined pleasure of his fingers, his mouth, and the hot rocking of the dryer made me clench around his fingers.

“Wish that was my dick,” he breathed against my sweat slick chest, “Wish I was in you,”

I tightened my legs around his waist, bringing me right to the edge, and using the hand I still had wrapped around his length, I rubbed it along my slick folds, “Then do something about it,” 

He removed his fingers and I guided his length in their place as he pushed into me fully and slowly.

“Fuck,” I gasped.

I felt his fingertips press into my back as he picked me up and turned to press me into the wall. He drove into me slow and hard as I used his shoulders for leverage. He watched me, kissing every inch of my skin that he could reach.

“Shit, you feel good, baby,” he groaned. I used my legs around his waist and my hands on his shoulders as leverage to take some of the control, “Yeah, fuck, Lane,” 

My eyes pinched shut and I whimpered in tandem with his thrusts, “You gunna come baby?” he asked with his lips moving gently on my throat. He moved in deep slow motions, keeping his pelvis rubbing against my clit as my moans climbed octaves. 

“Yes, oh, Dean, yes,” I whined, leaning my head back against the wall, letting him take over again. I pinched my eyes shut as my legs tightened and it felt like the air was sucked out of my lungs.

His hands were too tight on my hips, probably leaving marks. His pace stuttered and he came with a sound somewhere between a cry and a moan. His eyes opened slowly and stared into mine, the pupils of his brilliant green eyes only pinpoints as he panted for breath. I could feel the fear radiate from every shake of his muscles.

I ran my fingers through his hair over and over, “Deep breaths, watch me, I’m here,”

His hands relaxed on my hips and he rubbed at the marks he left gently. His pupils seemed to vibrate before going normal. Blinking quickly, he seemed like he could see me again.

“I’m home?” he whispered.

I nodded against his forehead, brushing his hair back, “Yes, baby, you’re home. I’m right here,”

I slid down the wall to my feet and kept his face in my hands. He looked at me as if he hadn’t seen me in years, eyes filled with pain and worry. His hands shook as they reached up to hold my face. Leaning into his palm I covered his hands with mine.

“You’re here? I – I’m home?” he asked again.

“I’m here,” I reiterated softly, “And you’re here. You’re safe, baby,” he looked like he would cry with relief. He wrapped his arms tightly around my waist with a strangled whimper. Before holding him, I pressed my lips firmly to his forehead, “I’ve got you. We’re safe, I’ve got you,”

He trembled in my arms, bare chest to bare chest. As physically vulnerable as two people can be. With his face nuzzled in my neck, hidden in my hair, he muttered the same things over and over.

“I’m home. I missed you. God, I missed you. Please be real, don’t go,” he practically chanted.

The washing machine’s timer buzzed and startled us both. Placing my hands on his cheeks, I made him look me in the eyes as I smoothed my thumbs over his cheeks.

“Want some warm clothes? Fresh from the dryer?” I smiled, to which he returned a sad smile and nodded, not leaving my side as I moved to get the clothes from the machine. 

Finding one of my favorite tee-shirts of his, I pulled it on over my head and the hem fell down to my mid-thigh. His shirts were my favorite nightgowns. When he had dressed in boxers and a tee-shirt and I had turned to folding clothes, he wound his arms around my waist from behind me, resting his chin on my shoulder. He didn’t leave me the whole time I finished the laundry. I hummed softly to him and he would occasionally join in. When he would heave a shaking sigh I would lightly trail my fingers along his strong arms that surrounded me. 

“Ready to go find Sam?” I whispered as I folded the last of the clothes.

He sounded far off, “Sam,” I could feel his breathing speed up with worry, “He can’t see me like this, Lane,”

I laced my fingers through his where they still rested on my stomach, “Then let me, I’m here too. Till the end. You know that,” he nodded against my shoulder. 

I knew he’d never tell me everything that happened while he was gone, at least not for a long while, but he could show me his pain… he could let me care for him. He had never let his guard down in front of anyone but me. In a way, he did with Sam, but he always had to play the brave-big-brother with him. Together, we were two halves of one being. He knew he could trust me, and I trusted him without any doubt. We’d know each other since we were ten, almost twenty years, we’d been through so much together. 

“This won’t be easy,” he muttered, “I mean… I guess… I don’t expect you to…”

I turned in his arms to look him in the eyes, “Hey, I said till the end. First and last, remember?” I smiled sweetly as he nodded, “You can’t get rid of me that easy, Winchester,”

He grinned a little and closed his eyes. I could feel his muscles tense and hear his breathing shake. I stroked my fingers through the hair at the back of his head. 

Without opening his eyes he spoke in a voice barely louder than a breath, “Still?”

I knew exactly what he meant and nothing could break my heart faster than that little question. He had asked the same thing when he rushed to see me after Sam had died… and then come back. Before he would tell me about his deal, he begged me to say it, to tell him out loud.

“Forever,” I whispered, pulling his head down closer to mine, I kissed his forehead and moved to whisper in his ear, “No matter what, you’re mine and I’m yours,” once the words left my lips he sighed in relief and buried his face in my neck again, “You know I love you,"

The last time he’d been anything like this was when he told me about the deal. 

 

He came into the living room in a rush. Green eyes drowning in fear spotted me as I stood from the recliner. Seeing the look on his face I went to him and he met me half way. He held onto my arms tightly, looking into my eyes with more fear and dread than I’d ever seen in one person.

“Tell me, Lane,” he begged in a broken voice, “Please, say it,” 

On the phone he had mentioned that something bad had happened and that he needed me. 

“What? Dean you’re scaring me,”

“Promise me, please promise you’ll still love me,” he whimpered, voice breaking over the one word I’d only heard him use when referencing things like pie.

Hearing him say that horrified me. I didn’t know what had happened, but he had never said anything like that before. I stuttered for a moment, “Of course. I’m yours. I love you no matter what,” I rested my hands on his chest and looked up at him, “Dean, what happened?”

Tears lined his eyes and he hesitated for a moment, “Sam… it was Sam… he got hurt. He got hurt real bad and…”

I felt my heart fall to my stomach, Sam couldn’t die… Dean’s dorky baby brother… my baby brother, “No,” I whispered, but then Dean continued and my worst assumption got even worse.

“I couldn’t let him die, Lane. He couldn’t stay dead. He was laying there… cold… I couldn’t…” he choked back a sob, “I’m so sorry. Lane, I couldn’t leave him like that,”

At that point, I prayed for the feeling of my heart in my stomach to come back… but it was gone. My heart didn’t beat, I couldn’t breathe. My vision and the room swam and I felt sick. Grasping at my stomach with one hand as my knees crumpled beneath me, I still didn’t breathe. A horrible sound mixed between a sob and gaging broke through my silence. I felt like I was going to vomit.

A deal. He was talking about a demon deal and I knew it. He had brought Sam back, but at a cost.

“How long?” I gasped.

He was on the floor in front of me then, sitting on his knees as a tear rolled slowly down his cheek, “One year,” his voice rasped. 

My stomach lurched into my throat drowning out my scream of pain. It wasn’t physical… maybe it was… I couldn’t tell. My chest felt like it was ripped open, like my heart was exposed to the air and burning. I curled in on myself, pressing my head to the carpet as I screamed my sobs and wrapped my arms around myself. I felt his hand rubbing up and down my back and I shot up quickly pushing at his attempted comfort.

“No!” I squeaked through my tears, “Why? You can’t do this!”

“I couldn’t leave him dead!”

“But now you’re dead,” I gasped, “You’re gunna die, Dean. Y-you can’t leave me like this,” I rocked back on my heels before awkwardly falling onto my tailbone and my shoulder blades hit the wall behind me knocking what little air my sobs had left in my lungs.

Dean pulled me into his lap and at that point I was willing. I tucked into his warmth, clinging tightly to his soft shirt as we both shook with grief. With my face pressed into the crook of his neck he pressed his lips long and hard to my forehead. Hot tears that weren’t mine fell onto my already tear-soaked face.

We sat there in the floor for hours, holding each other, letting the realization of how short a year was wash over us. We definitely cried some, me more than him, but for the most part we were too shocked to cry. Just a few weeks prior he told me that once Yellow-eyes was dead he wanted to get out and leave hunting. Even though we both knew it was unlikely… it was still fun to dream. Like a balloon in a forest of pine trees… our dreams never really had a chance.

 

That was the last time I had seen him so broken. 

“C’mon,” I whispered, “Let’s go get ready to leave,”

He was reluctant, but his unspoken refusal to let me out of his sight gave him no choice. I tugged on some little jean shorts and loosely tucked the oversized tee-shirt in the front. I packed our clothes quickly and neatly and before I could pick up the bag Dean had taken it and thrown it over his shoulder.

We made our way to the dining room where Bobby could be heard clicking away at his computer.

“Alright,” I sighed, leaning over Bobby’s shoulder to look at the screen, “Where is he?”

“Here,” the older man pointed at the map on the computer, “Pontiac, Illinois… right near where Dean was planted,”

“Right where I popped up too,” Dean grumbled behind me.

“That’s just down the road from where I was staying,” I looked between the two men, “Helluva coincidence, don’t you think?”

“I swear, if that kid did something stupid…” Dean sighed as he shook his head. I nodded, mimicking his sigh and grabbing my keys.

“C’mon, let’s go wrangle us a wayward brother,” I said with a smirk.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is so much shorter than the others. But I've hit a roadblock for a long while now and anted to get this out for anyone still wanting it. 
> 
> PS- the roadblock's name is Bucky with a detour of Natasha. So check out my other Supernatural one-shots and Marvel one-shots and stories while you wait(hopefully not too long) for more of this one!

Dean and Bobby lead the way up the narrow dark stairway and I followed close behind. The dim light of the hall and the musty smell put me a little on edge. Our target was at the end of the hall, off on its own, just like a hunter would want. Dean beat on the door a little too hard and it was quickly answered by small brunette girl. She donned only a tee shirt and panties as she leaned against the door.

“So where is it?” she asked, her attitude seemed to strike the wrong cord with me.

“Where’s what?” Dean replied.

“The pizza?” she sighed with an annoyed look, “The one that takes two dudes,” she leaned around Dean to look me up and down, “And some scrawny chick,”

“Alright,” I grumbled, forcing my way between Dean and Bobby, “Listen, I’m gunna give you the benefit of doubt and say you aren’t so stupid to think the three of us brought pizza. So, you can either get out of our way and tell us where Sam is or so help me,” I felt Dean’s hand wrap around my wrist, taking my focus off the girl long enough to look into the room behind her.

Sam stood slack-jawed as he stared past me and looked at Dean.

“Heya, Sammy,” Dean breathed as he gently pushed past me. The relief and joy in his voice made me smile, but it was short lived.

Sam started toward Dean in a terrifying rage; knife in his fist that I hadn’t seen there before. As quick as it happened, Bobby and I had lunged between the brothers, Bobby holding Sam back while I stood firm half in front of Dean with my arms locked and a gun in hand.

“Who are you?!” Sam boomed in his most frightening growl.

“What? Like you didn’t do this?!” Dean thundered back.

“Do what?” Sam seemed confused, but I didn’t buy it. He had to have done something, it was the only other thing that could have gotten him out.

“It’s him! It’s him, Sam,” Bobby assured with his hand planted firmly on the young man’s shoulder to hold him in place.

“We’ve already been through it, Sam,” I said, still looking down the barrel of my gun at him, “It’s really him,”

Sam’s mouth opened and closed a few times in confusion, his eyebrows pulled together making thought-lines on his forehead.

“I know,” Dean laughed, “I look fantastic, right?”

When Sam charged toward Dean the second time we didn’t stop him, I moved out of the way but kept hold of my gun until I saw the brothers hug each other tightly. I let out the breath I was holding and my gun fell to my side when I dropped my arms. Bobby and I exchanged small smiles over their hugging bodies. 

“So… are you all, like, together?” The girl asked from the doorway.

“What?!” I scoffed as the boys pulled apart.

“What? No!” Sam echoed me, “No, this is my brother, and she’s practically my sister!”

“Oh, right, I get it… kinda,” she nodded slowly, “I should, uh, I should go,”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea, sorry,” Sam said as he followed her to the door.

“Call me?”

“Yeah, sure thing, Kathy,” Sam mumbled uninterestedly. 

“Kristy,” the girl corrected, sounding defeated, and I had to choke down my giggle.

“Right,” Sam said awkwardly as she girl left.

There was tense silence as Sam closed the door and came to sit on the edge of the bed. He quietly continued getting ready, pulling on his socks and shoes as we all waited expectantly around the room. I leaned against the frame of the bathroom door with my arms crossed as Dean and Bobby stood near the table by the window.

“So, what’d it cost?” Dean finally broke the silence.

A smartass smirk spread across Sam’s lips, “What? The girl? I don’t have to pay for that,”

“Don’t play dumb, Sam, you know what he means!” I grumbled, “How many years did you get?”

He looked between the three of us standing around him, “You think I made a deal?”

“Yeah I do,” Dean replied.

“Well, I didn’t!”

“C’mon Sam, how much did it cost? Just your soul or something more?” Dean asked again.

“How do you know Lane didn’t do it!” Sam gestured to me angrily. 

“She says she didn’t,” Dean stated simply.

“And you believe her but not me?”

“Hey!” I shouted, “I’m not the one who disappeared for four months!”

“Well, you didn’t exactly stick around either!” Sam yelled back. He was standing now, furious with our accusations. His anger was suddenly directed at me and I stood hard, trying not to flinch or seem scared… but an angry Sam is an intimidating Sam.

“But everyone knew where I was!”

“Only ‘cause you never left that shit-hole apartment!” Sam growled as he stepped closer to me menacingly, “I’ve been working… hunting!” As he moved closer with slow predator-like steps, my resolve broke and I shuffled back slightly.

Dean stepped up and put an arm between us, “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hunting what? What did you do? Did you make a deal?”

“No! I wish I could say it was me, but it wasn’t… I’ve been hunting Lilith,”

“You what?!” I snapped, “Alone?

“Yeah, alone,” Sam spat back, “Like I said… you never left that damn apartment,” it was painfully obvious to me that I had majorly damaged our friendship last time I saw him. He sank onto the corner of the bed again with a sigh, “I wish it was me, Dean, I tried. Nobody would take my offers,”

“Alright,” Dean relented, “Alright… well, if you guys didn’t then who did?” 

“That’s the million dollar question,” Bobby sighed from his chair at the table, “I think I know someone who can help,”

As Bobby went to the hall to make some calls, Sam finished putting on his shoes and Dean turned to me, standing close and whispering so Sam wouldn’t hear.

“You ok?” he asked, his eyes were flooded with protective worry.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” luckily, my voice didn’t shake. Being on the receiving end of Sam’s fury was never a safe place to be.

“You looked a little freaked out for a second,”

“Nah, I’m alright,” I rested my hands on his chest and took a deep breath, “We’re gunna figure this out,”

He nodded and I smirked before adding, “Since it’s the million dollar question… do we get a million dollars when this is over?”

The nearly-permanent worry lines of his face relaxed as he kissed my forehead. He sighed in my hair before murmuring softly against my skin, “We’ll figure this out,”

It sounded more like he was trying to convince me… or himself. I didn’t mind, we could all use as much confidence and convincing as we could get. Dean had been through so much and deserved so much better. He and Sam both did, and for a while I was just a painful reminder that escaping from this life was possible. Now, there I was, right back in it without a second thought. Dean was sure to be over-protective for a while. I’d been out of the game… and he had lost Sam and me for four months. But it was only a matter of time before things were back to normal. We would figure this out and things would go back to normal. At least I hoped, because that’s all I really had to go on.


End file.
